


The Pianist

by boadicee



Series: Short stories [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Piano
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 07:50:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4383452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boadicee/pseuds/boadicee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Author : Boadicee<br/>English translate : Miu Crow Kawamura</p>
    </blockquote>





	The Pianist

**Author's Note:**

> Author : Boadicee  
> English translate : Miu Crow Kawamura

The pianist  
Levi's POV 

In the room, as usual, the piano resonates. There isn't a place left. Not one ? Ah, yes, there's one, at the end of the room, to the right, just one person, at a table for two. It's been a few times, this man comes, and sits here, always at the same table. He sits on the chair, the one that stares at the stage where I stand. There's no less than eighty people every night, and still, the only one that attracts my look. His green eyes catched my attention. They're … Intense, just as his face. Although, he hasn't got anything that could distinguish him from everybody else. Ah, yes there is, if you look closely, this man, always alone, and his clothes don't match a place like here.  
I wonder what he really does here. Maybe it's the music. I don't know. But he's here, staring at me, as always. From time to time, I can make out a smile. Whe my fingers slide on the piano as I raise my head, I see him with my eyes closed, his head following the soft rythm of my melodies. He intriguates me, more and more. The more I see him, the more I'd like to be in he's head. When I think about it, imagining that one day, he wouldn't come, it disturbs me a little. I think the I got used to his presence.  
My song just finished. I get up, thank the audience, as usual, then I quit the stage a fe minutes, to cool off. Going to the counter, I order a cup. He's still there, still staring at me. I turn, order two cups, specifying that he must offer the second one to the lonely young man at the end of the room. He does so, and I savour my drink.

Eren's POV

As every night for a week, I'm in front of this inn. Why am I here ? I can't answer myself. I came in by chance, one night, when it was raining like hell. I hadn't book, but there was a free table. When I got in the main room, I was stupefacted with the scenery, and by all those well-dressed people. At the room's other end, a piano. I never had the chance to hear someone play the piano, and was charmed, when I heard him play for the first time. I had the impression that the music was coming from his fingers. His long and thin fingers, so long and thin that at first, you doubted the fact that their owner was a man.

The first time I saw him, I couldn't take my eyes off him. He had enchanted me, with his gestures and postures. I had this impression, that he was playing just for me. Even though the room was full, I had the sensation that we were alone, in the world, alone, in this room.

I came back every night, just to listen to him. Every night, I took the same table, in the dark, quite a good position though. The only thing that brought light was this candlestick. But, it was enough, I didn't need anything else.a même table.

Tonight as always, I sat and listened. But it was different. We looked at each other. He continues to look at me while playing. I feel honored. I don't want to break this contact, this, intimate moment. What's in his mind when he plays ? What's in his mind when he looks at me like that ? His look may seem harsh at first, but, I' sure he's hiding so many emotions and expressions. He must reveal them to a really closed circle of people. The music ends, and I feel some sort of deception getting born deep down.I would have liked him, loved him, to continue playing again and again. He stands up, salutes in front of the audience who are applausing. Now that I look more closely, I notice that he isn't that tall. If he didn't had this severe look, he could've easily been mistaken for a teenager. He quits the stage, I don't take my eyes off him. He goes to the counter, takes his cup. How do I know that ? He does every night. He turns to me, our looks cross each other. I'd love to get closer, and talk to him. Just a few words. The waiter comes near me, and leaves a cup. I gently refuse, and he tells me that it comes from the pianist. He already turned away, to savour his drink. I finally accept and thank the waiter. I take my cup, take it to my lips. He's looking at me, slowly walking towards me as well. When he's near enough, he takes a chair, and sits. Still having his cup in his hands. He's looking at me, more, he's probing me. I can feel his eyes scanning the very littlest inch of my person. We don't talk. We just drink, calmly. He's finished way before me, and stands, surely to go back and play again. I want to hail him, but, I don't even know his name.  
« I'm over in about an hour, there's a piano at my place, if you want to listen », he says.  
And I don't even have the time to answer, already, he's gone.


End file.
